


Alouetté, Je te Plumerai

by eloquentelegance, Loudest_Voice



Series: Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Clan Politics, Coming of Age, Gen, Genjutsu, Magic Ninja Mental Health, Missions, No Uchiha Massacre, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquentelegance/pseuds/eloquentelegance, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loudest_Voice/pseuds/Loudest_Voice
Summary: The aftermath of Orochimaru's attempt to kidnap Itachi. Even with a war at the doorstep, Konoha has been letting their kids go soft.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is part of the fic we're co-writing that we posted [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11240931/chapters/25123071). Once my coathor figures out an appropriately pretentious title we'll probably make it a series.
> 
> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) and [@pentapus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/works) and [@Tanekore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TaneKore/pseuds/TaneKore) for beta-reading this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rakshasha visits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of rape
> 
> Loudest_Voice: I'm now at [loudest-voice](https://loudest-voice.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Chances are I won't be any better at this social media than any other. Come follow me if you got a tumblr!
> 
> Eloquentelegance: My tumblr is over at [cursedcomickids](https://cursedcomickids.tumblr.com/). It's mostly DC stuff but. Imma start putting some magic ninja content there too!!

When the medic team arrives to transport his father to the hospital, Itachi straps Sasuke to his back and goes along with them. He wants to help Mother as she battles Orochimaru, but then no one will be there to take care of his brother. He certainly can’t leave him with the Hyuuga. 

Itachi had wanted to stay at home and wait for Mother to return, but Hyuuga Hizashi-sensei thinks they will be safer in the hospital, in case Orochimaru circles back to try again. One of the med-chuunin examines them with careful hands and gives Sasuke a cherry-red lollipop. She is careful not to react when Itachi reveals his attacker’s identity. It’s telling, or it should be.

Itachi doesn’t know what people see in him. Oh, he gets why his family loves him. They are his family, and it’s the way of things. They say he’s a prodigy, but secretly, Itachi suspects that other people are just stupid. It’s an unkind thought, so he buries it down and tries to be patient. There are things that are hard for him that seem to come to everyone else as easy as breathing. He hasn’t had much time to dwell on it since his promotion anyway. If there’s one good thing that’s come from the conflict with Kumo, it’s that he’s too busy to drown in self-reflection.

He should climb into the hospital bed with Sasuke and sleep. Neither of them are injured, and since he has two C-rank missions to complete today, he needs the rest way more than Sasuke. 

Don’t be stupid, a voice in his head whispers. It sounds like Shisui, except Shisui would never be so mean. You’ll be on standby for a while. 

There’s a single ANBU perched on a tree by the window, guarding them. Guarding Itachi. In case Orochimaru, the Sannin, comes back for him. They can’t spare ANBU to escort him outside the village, and even if they could, then it wouldn’t be cost-effective for him to be doing missions in the first place. All because a strange old man fixated on him. It’s ridiculous. 

His missions are not particularly dangerous: C-rank only because the village has been marking up random deliveries and hunts in an attempt to increase revenue now that most adult ninja are out on the frontlines. But they are important missions nevertheless. Old man Goro in the town nearest to Konoha has men working in a coal mine, and someone needs to deliver their salaries to them every week. Someone capable of fending off common criminals. Wild beasts attack the caravans moving from one settlement to the next, so Itachi scours the roads and takes them out on a near-daily basis. Their pelts and bones sell well, sometimes. 

Itachi’s fists clench, and he doesn’t realize it until his nails dig into his palms. A soft breeze passes through the window, and even though it’s far from cold, Itachi gets up to wrap Sasuke in a cheap hospital bedsheet. For an instant, it seems soaked in blood. The image is gone as quickly as the breeze, barely phasing Itachi. Blood is only blood, even if it had been his father’s. He covers Sasuke as intended, then goes back to sit on the lone, cushioned chair in the corner. 

Sasuke will be upset later. He’d intended to stay awake all night, thrilled that Itachi would be with him. The night’s fright had left him as if Itachi had cast an elegant genjutsu the moment he said that there had been a misunderstanding, and their parents had sorted it out. Sasuke hadn’t even cared that they were in a strange building, rather than back home. 

Sasuke adores Itachi, looks up at him with his Byakugan eyes like Itachi’s the sun, the moon, and all the clean water in the world. Someday he’ll realize that Itachi isn’t all that special, and Itachi hopes that it happens gradually. 

Oh, Itachi’s a good chuunin; a useful one. He keeps to the shadows, is unassuming enough that he passes by towns arousing little more than pity. Outside of Konoha, he’s just a thin, seemingly frail child whose fingers look too small curled around a kunai handle. More than once, an enemy has faltered because there are still people who will balk at murdering a child. Itachi wishes he could feel bad about killing them, but. . . he’s a good ninja. Killing is easy. 

Mustering up some guilt about it is hard. Or at least it had been before Orochimaru oozed into his bedroom.

When Sasuke was born, their parents had had a frightful fight. Itachi had not understood why at the time, and adults had paid even less attention to him then. They had stayed with Grandmother Rakshasha for a few weeks, near the edge of the compound, where their poorer family members who could not afford reinforced and weatherized houses lived. One of those vicious storms had hit Konoha, toppling one of the houses and killing a baby scarcely a few days older than Sasuke. The mother had sobbed bitterly while Elder Rakshasha did the funeral rites.

Itachi had asked an adult (his mother? Rakshasha? Shisui?) why it had happened, and they’d told him there wasn’t a reason. Forces of nature do not need a reason. 

Orochimaru had come into Itachi’s life like a force of nature, albeit one capable of thought. Worse of all, Itachi fears that he has no right to hate him for it.

Hasn’t he been a force of nature himself? How many has he killed, swiftly and with hardly a thought, since the war started? He’d lost count at thirty-two, two months ago. One of his missions involved delivering a package that turned out to be dynamite-based explosives, sealed by Lady Kushina herself, which no one had seen the necessity of warning him about. It’d been detonated inside a rather fancy home, and Itachi had not thought to count how many people were inside. 

Steps approach the door, and Itachi can't suppress a shudder before he recognizes the pattern. One foot making slightly more noise than the other as it accepts more weight, followed by the sharp tack of a cane hitting the ground before the softer thud of a second foot. Elder Rakshasha’s careless, loud steps. A lick of uncertainty courses down his spine - maybe it’s not her, what does he know? - but ANBU-san is not shifting from his spot, and if Itachi can hear the footsteps, then so can he. Or she.

Itachi still can't relax until Elder Rakshasha enters the hospital room, without bothering to knock. She stares at Itachi, and he can guess what her ink-black eyes look like even though he turned the light off when Sasuke dozed off. Disappointed. That’s Elder Rakshasha’s default look, though most people think it’s the color that is off-putting: so dark that the pupils are nearly invisible, even if you're standing close to her at lunch time on a sunny day. 

“You look about as spooked as I expected,” she tells Itachi, before stepping closer to the bed to inspect Sasuke.

“I. . .” Itachi realizes that he'd drawn his knees to his chest at some point. He flushes, grateful for the darkness, and stands up to walk closer to Elder Rakshasha. He has so many questions that they get tangled up on the way to his mouth.

“It seems like everyone’s forgotten you in their haste to claw each other to pieces over the changeling here.”

“Don't call him that,” says Itachi. Mother says he should be respectful of Elder Rakshasha, no matter what outrageous things she might say, and usually it’s no trouble to obey. Not when she talks that way about Sasuke, though.

Elder Rakshasha snorts, then looks down at him. The sun is peeking up from the horizon, showering the world in a sickly light that makes her white hair shine like diluted honey. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” asks Itachi. 

“Did Orochimaru rape you?” asks Elder Rakshasha, impatiently. 

“No.” Though that must have been what the Sannin had been after, no matter how much Itachi struggles to accept it. 

“You’re sure?”

“I think I would notice if someone raped me, Grandmother.”

“Don't get smart with me now,” says Elder Rakshasha, shaking her cane in his direction. “People get stupid about rape, as if it’s the worse thing that could ever happen to a person. Don't let shame control you, boy. What did Orochimaru do to you?”

“He spoke to me a few times,” admits Itachi. “I didn't think anything of it.”

“One of the Sannin takes an interest in you, and you don’t think anything of it.” Elder Rakshasha sing-songs the last bit, as though Itachi can’t hear how stupid it sounds in retrospect. 

But what should he have thought? That Orochimaru had. . . what? Become infatuated with him? Even knowing for a fact that it’s true doesn’t stop Itachi’s mind from roaming fruitlessly for another explanation. 

“At some point, the idiots running this village and your parents will remember you, and they’ll have many questions about your relationship with Orochimaru,” says Elder Rakshasha. “Have some better answers.”

“I don’t have a relationship with him,” says Itachi. 

Elder Rakshasha looks at him like he’s someone she despairs having to share air with. She’s right too. Itachi should stop his navel-gazing so when someone - Hokage-sama? - questions him, he has something mildly intelligent to say.

“I don’t,” insists Itachi. The long night must be getting to him. Try as he might, he can’t stop wasting brain power trying to convince himself that Orochimaru doesn’t actually care about him, that it’s all a mistake. 

Orochimaru had greeted him a few times in the Main Tower mess halls, smiled down at him with a strange glint in his yellowish eyes. Looking back on it, Itachi had felt of frisson of unease, even fear (maybe), but he’d shrugged it off when Orochimaru had mostly left him alone. What would he have said? Orochimaru said hello to me today, and I don’t like it. Please, make him stop. To who? His parents? His CO? Hokage-sama? 

“He first approached me about six weeks ago, while I was writing a mission report,” says Itachi. “Complimented me on something - my shurikenjutsu? I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Itachi remembers being annoyed at the interruption, looking up with a slight frown, then more irritation because Orochimaru is much older and thus automatically deserving of certain deference. “I thanked him for the compliment and. . . didn’t think anything of it.”

“No one warned you to stay away from him?” 

Why would they? Itachi just barely manages to bite down on the question. They would have, obviously, if they’d seen. 

“He only ever talked to me when I was alone.” Alone at headquarters, which is almost always empty with most ninja away at war. Alone as he walks back home, distracted by trees, birds, and critters, feeling secure within Konoha’s boundaries. Itachi so loves being alone. It chills him to realize how many opportunities Orochimaru had to snatch him away and. . . No point in thinking about that now. He’ll be ready next time. Somehow.

“For future reference,” says Elder Rakshasha, rubbing one of her ever-present beads between her index finger and thumb, “no grown man engages an eight-year-old in small talk without ulterior motives.” 

“I’m sorry.” There’s not much else to say, is there? If Itachi was more like other children, he’d have run to his parents, brimming with pride because the Legendary Sannin complimented him.

“Self-flagellation never did anyone any good,” says Elder Rakshasha. “Besides, some of the blame lies at my feet as well. I left you to your own devices for too long, even after you awakened the Sharingan so young.”

“What does that have to do with it?” asks Itachi. The Sharingan might be special, but Itachi himself isn’t. Many Uchiha have the Sharingan, and most can keep it active way longer than him.

“Yes, I’ve definitely overestimated your wits,” says Elder Rakshasha, limping towards the window. That limp is probably exaggerated. Elder Rakshasha likes to exaggerate. During birthday parties and clan meetings, she dumps her sake on the ground while the other elders guzzle theirs, then pretends to be as drunk as they are. Itachi doesn’t know if anyone else notices, or notices him noticing. “I will have to get more involved with your training.”

“My training. . .?” What could Rakshasha possibly teach him, other than cutting people to shreds with words? “What about Sasuke?”

“What about him?”

“He’s the one who needs your help,” says Itachi, rushing over to her side. “I’m too high-risk a target for Orochimaru now, but the Hyuuga won’t rest until they’ve taken Sasuke away and Mother won’t just accept it- ”

“-Forget Sasuke,” interrupts Elder Rakshasha. 

Itachi bites his tongue. He needs Elder Rakshasha interested in Sasuke’s fate, at least enough so that she pulls her invisible strings for his protection. But she’s a finicky, petty wisp of a woman, and any wrong word on his part could turn her against Sasuke. 

“I’ve had the business with Sasuke under control for years,” says Elder Rakshasha. “But this business with Orochimaru, that I did not expect.” 

“Okay. So what do we do about Sasuke?”

“That’s not your concern,” says Rakshasha. “From now on, your concern is Orochimaru.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) and [@pentapus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/works) and [@Tanekore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TaneKore/pseuds/TaneKore) for beta-reading this!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babysitting is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Kakashi-san drops by and asks Itachi a few questions. It’s standard investigative procedure, except Kakashi-san also asks about his mission records. It’s most likely related to the reasons Orochimaru took an interest in him, being a so-called prodigy. But Kakashi-san seems particularly preoccupied with his confirmed kill count. Perhaps Itachi has made an administrative error somewhere. He tries to be exceedingly meticulous about these things, but it’s not impossible for mistakes to have been made. But neither is it probable, he thinks with some ire. 

After Kakashi-san leaves, they have to wait another hour for their mother to come pick them up. Itachi knows because he watched the interminable minutes pass on the clock above the window. Sasuke had woken about half-an-hour after Kakashi-san’s departure, and had not stopped asking to leave since then.

“Nii-san, it’s so boring here,” he complains, while Itachi gazes out the window. “Take me home. I want Mama.”

“I told you, Mother is away in an important mission.” He could probably take Sasuke home by himself, though. He’s a chuunin now, and Mother left Sasuke in his custody.

“Mama doesn’t do missions!” shrills Sasuke, tugging at Itachi’s sleeve. “She takes care of me. Where’s Mama? I wanna go home, Nii-san. Nii-san!”

“Shut up, Sasuke.” 

“You shut up!” Sasuke’s voice is hitting the high note that heralds a tantrum. “I wanna go home! I want Mama.” 

“What about Father?” demands Itachi, before he can think better of it.

The word “Father” triggers full-throated sobs from Sasuke. His face flushes bright pink and snot gathers under his nostrils as he gulps hysterical breaths, then buries his face in Itachi’s hip. Sasuke’s old enough to realize that tears get him what he wants sometimes, especially from Father, but not old enough to think of an alternative strategy for people who are impervious to the trick. Itachi can usually make him stop with a flat stare, but it just makes him cry harder on occasion. Itachi doesn't know what to do then, besides admit defeat and give Sasuke what he wants.

Thankfully, Mother chooses that moment to enter their borrowed hospital room. Itachi gazes at her limp hair and exhausted eyes as Sasuke runs to her, hiccuping loudly. At the very least, she doesn’t look injured.

“Mama!”

“Everything's okay, Sasuke-chan.” She sighs as she gathers Sasuke into her arms and lifts him off the floor.

“Nii-san is mean!” wails Sasuke, burying his face in her neck.

“He’s not,” says Mother, but she doesn't look at Itachi.

Itachi is mean sometimes. Sasuke’s not the only one who says so.

“I wanna go home,” Sasuke goes on whining, as Mikoto walks him back and forth across the room and rubs his back. 

“Yes, soon,” says Mikoto. Then she finally meets Itachi’s eyes, squaring her shoulders as though a battle is imminent. “Orochimaru has fled the village. For now, you're safe.”

No one’s ever safe. Rakshasha says that whenever she’s drunk--really drunk. Itachi would have called it overdramatic before last night. “Can I go see Father?” 

“Yes, of course,” says Mother, looking away. “He’s not awake yet, so don't feel rushed.”

Father might never wake up. “What room is he in?”

Of course, Sasuke starts fake-crying the moment Itachi tries to leave, but Itachi has no time for it. Hadn't he spent the entire evening guarding Sasuke? And hadn't Sasuke been whining about how terrible he is just before Mother showed up? Itachi doesn't even bother to flick his forehead before bowing to Mother and setting out for Father’s room. He’s so annoyed that the sound of Mother soothing a fresh web of tears doesn't faze him. 

No one’s there to soothe the stubborn tears that trickle down his cheeks at the sight of his father, dead-still on his hospital bed, hooked to catheters and a breathing tube. A thick bandage covers his chest, above the spot where Orochimaru’s snake sank its fangs. It’s soaked with dark red blood that seems brown at the edges. The monitors beep an incomprehensible, but even, song. No wonder Mother has trouble looking at him. This is his fault.

“I’m sorry,” says Itachi.

Then he dries his cheeks and shakes himself. True, this would not have happened if he hadn't attracted Orochimaru’s attention (or at least complained to someone after attracting Orochimaru’s attention), but Grandmother is right about one thing. Self-flagellation never did anyone any good. He leaves the hospital after a few minutes of watching the breathing machine force his father’s chest to expand. Reconnaissance is the first step of any decent strategy. Considering that Orochimaru has been chased off and his records will soon be expunged and classified, Itachi doesn't have much time. 

Orochimaru's public profile is squeezed between two random chuunin’s at the main Secret Library. Judging by how neat and dry it is, few people bother to write much in it. The last entry to it (creepy fucker; stares at kids too much) was written a year before Itachi was born. Makes sense, since Orochimaru is so strong that he took most of his missions alone and kept to himself, mostly. Itachi had barely recognized the man the first time he’d been approached. 

A few years earlier, there had been a flurry of gossip about the problems that had driven the Legendary Sannin apart. None of it concerns Itachi, so he flips back to the front page to review Orochimaru’s ranking in the ninja arts. And he almost drops the file. Thirty-five. That has to rival Yondaime-sama. Is it even accurate? How the hell had his mother survived? 

How the hell would he ever be a match for Orochimaru?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News travels fast in a clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Itachi can't take missions until Orochimaru is either captured or confirmed gone. That’s fine. Mother gives him a mission: protect Sasuke. Mostly, he’s to be a deterrent in case the Hyuuga get impatient in the middle of all the politicking about who should have custody. A tedious mission, but an important one. Sasuke is delighted that Itachi will be staying with him while Father is in the hospital, so much so that he doesn't even ask why Father is in the hospital in the first place. Just once, he asks about “the bad man”, but he doesn’t complain when Itachi doesn't answer.

On the bright side, Sasuke naps a lot more than Itachi had realized. He dozes off every four hours or so, giving Itachi plenty of time to train in relative peace. Itachi leaves him on a hammock in their backyard as he climbs the tree, then sticks to a branch by the soles of his feet, upside-down. It’s not an effective training technique because he gets dizzy before his chakra reserves deplete. He has little chakra, but enough to withstand his own weight.

It won't be enough.

He jumps down and heads for the dumbells behind the kitchen. Usually, he stops at the twenty-pounds. He’s just under four feet tall. The last time he’d been weighed, he’d clocked in at a measly forty-five pounds. Physically, there’s only so much he can do. And he knows that if he pushes himself too hard, he’ll just buy himself an injury. Twenty-five pounds will have to do.

He’s trembling with exhaustion in about ten minutes. It’ll be a lifetime before he can so much as glance at Orochimaru with a shred of confidence. He starts hoping for Sasuke to wake up just so he has an excuse to stop training.

Sasuke doesn't wake up, but the doorbell mercifully rings. Itachi jumps down from the tree, drops the dumbbell on the ground, and wipes sweat off his brow. He goes to Sasuke and tries to wake him, but Sasuke just grunts and climbs onto his back. Itachi’s shirt is soaked with sweat around the collar and under his armpits, which clearly doesn't concern his brother. The doorbell rings a second time, and Sasuke nuzzles the back of his neck. With a short sigh, Itachi heads to the front door.

It’s his cousin Izumi, her brown hair more unkempt than usual. Her dark eyes widen the instant they fall on him, and her shoulders sag.

“You’re okay,” she says, half-reaching for his face.

Itachi leans back, and her hand falls to her side. She looks away, crestfallen.

“Do you want to come in?” asks Itachi.

Moments later, they’re in the backyard. Itachi tries to put Sasuke back on the hammock, but he makes a noise like he’s going to cry. It’s probably more fake tears, but Itachi is in no mood to deal with them. How Sasuke can stand the stink of his sweat is a mystery.

“I heard what happened,” says Izumi.

“I figured.”

Izumi wilts, and considering how she always looks like a flower starving for sunlight, Itachi’s impressed with himself for making it worse. Izumi is about a year older than him, still in the Academy, annoying people with her odd affinity for dead things and skeletons. She’s Itachi’s only friend in his age group - his only friend besides Shisui, period. He’s so short-tempered that she probably wouldn't put up with him if she had better options.

“I have something for you,” says Itachi. “From my last mission.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” says Itachi. “I’d say hold Sasuke for me, but he’d cry.”

“Oh, whatever,” says Izumi. “The little twerp only does that ‘cause he wants attention.”

Sasuke tenses on his back, so on top of it all he’s only pretending to sleep. Regardless, Itachi needs to keep an eye on him. He sighs as he shrugs.

“Wait here,” he tells Izumi, then heads upstairs.

Last mission, he ran across a crow corpse and, despite his initial disgust, examined it. Long ago, he’d drawn the line at getting his hands on fresh roadkill, but this corpse had been desiccated and smelled pretty benign. Itachi had taken to carrying a pair of gloves on him just for such occasions.

“Sasuke, come on,” he says, after reaching his bedroom. “I said I’m staying with you.”

“You always say that!”

“No, I don’t.” Sometimes, he wonders about Sasuke’s intellect. He wiggles his shoulders as he pushes Sasuke off. For once, Sasuke doesn’t reward him with waterworks.

“Mama says you have to stay.”

“I heard her,” says Itachi. Unbidden, his eyes pass over the spot on the floor where Father’s blood had pooled. The blood and the oily poison from the snake. Someone had scrubbed it clean. Itachi’s heart has no reason to race. He bends down so he’s eye-level with Sasuke. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Is it ‘cause the bad man might come back?”

Itachi opens his mouth, but the automatic denial dies somewhere in his throat. What if Orochimaru _does_ come back? He doesn't want to kill Itachi, sure, but what of his family?

“Nii-san, it’s fine.” Sasuke steps forward and puts his arms around Itachi’s neck. “I’ll stay with you even if the bad man comes again.”

That’s the problem. Itachi’s family won't abandon him. They _can't._ “He’s not coming back.” Itachi pulls Sasuke off his neck gently. “Hokage-sama probably wouldn't let me out of his sight otherwise.”

“Why not?”

“Don't worry about it,” says Itachi, reaching over to his drawer.

“What’s that?”

“You wouldn't like it.”

He pulls it out, and sure enough, Sasuke makes a face. But Izumi almost screams when he shows it to her. Itachi doesn’t even make it all the way down the stairs. She catches sight of his little prize and hurries over.

“It’s _intact!”_ She cradles the little humerus like it’s coated in diamond dust.

Now, they’re seated out on the back porch. Itachi has served them tea, just like his mother has taught him. It’s a rule of some sort. If guests are over, they must have tea. Sasuke still can’t drink without spilling it all over himself, but he’ll throw a fit if he doesn’t get included. So, Itachi pours him some apple juice in a sippy cup.

“There’s a lot of meat around the humerus; usually, scavengers snap it to pieces. This one must’ve been cleaned off by maggots only,” Izumi continues.

“Gross,” says Sasuke. The only reason he even knows half those words is that Izumi often lectures about her hobby in Itachi’s general direction and Sasuke would sew himself to Itachi's hip given half the chance.

“Why didn't you get the entire skeleton?” demands Izumi, suddenly glaring at Itachi.

“I promised to pick _one_ bone off every animal corpse I ran across outside the village,” ltachi reminds her.

 _“Gross,”_ repeats Sasuke.

“Oh, but this skeleton must have been _perfect_ ,” says Izumi, gazing at him with considerable reproach.

Itachi shrugs. The bird bones had been mostly intact--maybe, he hadn't spent a long time examining it--but he cannot waste undue time during missions to indulge Izumi’s odd hobby.

“When I start doing missions, I’m gonna be a much better scavenger than you!” says Izumi.

“You’re not better than Nii-san!”

This is normally the point where Itachi steps in so they don't end up yelling stupidities at each other, but only a tired sigh escapes him. Sasuke and Izumi both grind to a halt, as if they had never considered that Itachi could be capable of making such a noise. 

“Nii-san?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Izumi wrapping the bird humerus with the filter paper she always keeps on her and slipping it into one of the little pockets she sews into her slacks. It’s not often that Izumi might understand something better than him, outside of roadkill, but maybe... Itachi’s mind races, looking for a polite way to ask the question.

“You probably had the worst night ever, huh?” says Izumi.

Itachi shrugs. “It wasn't really that bad for me.”

“I’d probably still be crying about it,” says Izumi.

“I was there too,” interjects Sasuke.

“I know.” Itachi ruffles his hair, which Sasuke doesn't like when people are around because he thinks it makes him look like a baby. “Izumi...”

“Yeah?”

“You… like me, like _that,_ right?”

Izumi inhales loud enough that it probably chases squirrels away out in the woods. Her cheeks get as red as Sasuke’s crayons, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “I-I...” She slaps Itachi’s shoulder, hard. “You're so _conceited!_ No, I don't!”

“Uh...” Itachi’s pretty sure she does. The question wouldn't upset her so much otherwise.

“I like you like _that,_ Nii-san!”

Izumi lets out a nervous giggle.

“Thanks, Sasuke.”

Sasuke beams, oblivious.

“I’m sorry, Izumi,” says Itachi, as Sasuke leans on his back. “I didn't mean to embarrass you. It’s just... I don't know why Orochimaru, or anyone, would ruin their lives so drastically for me.”

“Well, Orochimaru’s crazy,” says Izumi.

“I guess.” That doesn't help Itachi much, though. That just makes everything worse.

“But...” Izumi’s cheeks somehow get redder. She squeezes her eyes shut and puts her head between her knees. “You’re very nice, and sweet. And so smart. It’s not so strange people like you.”

Most people don't agree with Izumi. Itachi is strange, arrogant, eerie. Maybe he’s misunderstanding her since she’s talking to the ground.

“I doubt that’s how Orochimaru sees me,” he says.

“Well, like I said...” Izumi finally looks up, taking a deep breath. “He’s a crazy old man.”

“Who’s Ochichimaru?” asks Sasuke.

Before Itachi can correct him, Izumi bursts out laughing. She cackles, breathless for a good minute, throwing her head so far back and almost tipping over.

Itachi shoots her a questioning look.

"[Ochinchinmaru](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Ochinchin)," Izumi manages to sputter out, setting off another bout of laughter.

Itachi gifts her with an unimpressed look. Then he turns to Sasuke. "It's  _Orochimaru_ -"

"No, no, no!" Izumi cuts him off. "It's definitely Ochinchinmaru."

"Please don't teach my brother vulgar things."

Izumi tries very hard to stifle a smile. "But I mean, if the shoe fits..."

It's about all she can manage before she dissolves into snickering. Sasuke joins in, infected by her. Itachi rolls his eyes. He's surrounded by children. 

Eventually, they quiet down. For a moment, there's nothing but the faint rustling of leaves. It’s nearing midsummer and the air is bloated with heat. In the harsh sunlight, it’s hard to believe the day will ever end. The night sounds like a tall tale told around cups of sake. Right now, his encounter with the Snake Sannin feels so far away, a scene from a past life.

Izumi clears her throat, looking concerned once more. “Are you… I mean, I don’t mean to be nosy or anything, but…” She trails off, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger.

“They want me to see a Yamanaka,” Itachi says.

He can feel Izumi freeze next to him.

“You’re goin’ away?” Sasuke asks, because that’s the only thing he ever cares about.

“No. I’m staying in the village. I can’t leave, remember?” He pokes Sasuke between his eyebrows.

“Are they- You think they’ll-” Izumi pinches her brow, biting her lip.

Itachi doesn’t understand her distress. This is standard investigation procedure. Not well-versed in offering comfort, he simply shrugs.

“Can I come too?” Sasuke asks.

“No, you’ll have to stay here. I won’t be gone long. It’ll take a few hours, at the most.”

“Wow…” Izumi breathes. “If I were you, I’d be scared. Well, I mean, if I was you, then I’d be, you know… I wouldn’t be sacred because you never get scared, and I’d be _you-_ ”

“I get scared,” Itachi cuts in. “Only fools are incapable of fear.”

“O-Oh?”

“ _You_ get scared, Nii-san?”

Honestly, people think of him as a sort of automaton. Is it his face? Shisui says it’s his face. He’s not very good at emoting and whatnot. People can easily believe he’s a stoic drone. Itachi’s about to disabuse Sasuke and Izumi of such a ridiculous thought when someone knocks on the front door.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Itachi says, rising to his feet.

“Oh no, it’s fine.” Izumi follows him. “I need to get going, anyways.”

“Nii-san-”

“It’s just the front door, Sasuke. Stay put; I’ll be right back.”

Itachi hears Sasuke huff, but thankfully, his brother doesn’t move. He and Izumi make their way to the front door. Opening it, he finds a frowning Shisui.

“I’m gone for like a month,” he says by way of greeting. “A month!”

“Many things can happen in a month,” Itachi replies blandly.

“I’ll see you later, Itachi,” Izumi murmurs, slipping out between him and Shisui. She quickly hurries down the street and out of sight.

“Isn’t she that Jashinist girl?” Shisui says, squinting.

“No, she just likes skeletons.” Then, because his mother has trained him very well, Itachi steps aside to let Shisui in. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’d be much obliged,” Shisui grins toothily. “So, is it true Sasuke has the Byakugan?”

They make their way down the hall to the living room.

“You’ve seen Sasuke before. I assumed it was obvious with his grey eyes.”

“That doesn’t automatically mean-”

Itachi doesn’t hear Shisui’s following words. His eyes focus on the back porch - the _empty_ back porch. His instincts scream at him. He spins on his heel and thuds up the stairs. Checking every room, he finds each equally empty. He heads back down, searching the kitchen, the toilet, the lower bedroom - nothing. Shisui catches him just before he dashes out the door. Itachi almost breaks his wrist. But Shisui is an ANBU captain for a reason, and Itachi promptly finds himself pinned to the wall.

 “Okay,” Shisui says, calm as a frozen lake. “You’re gonna take a deep breath, and then you’re gonna tell me-”

“Sasuke’s gone!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anko supposes it's some kind of community service. She also suspects it's a new form of torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Anko had expected it to hurt worse, when Sensei cast her aside. It’s a relief that it doesn't. And also not a relief because shouldn't she feel… something? Maybe she will once the Uchiha-Hyuuga drama boils over and the Yondaime remembers to punish her. Sooner or later, ANBU will realize that she hadn't been a “victim”, that she’d helped him every step of the way. At first, she had not known - or perhaps accepted - that what her sensei did was wrong, but Anko is no idiot. 

They have her helping in Yamanaka Akari’s clinic for loonies. It’s a pretty swanky place, with hardwood floors, lots of pictures of birds, flowers and shit, and wide windows in every wall. The corridor that leads to the little room where the medics draw blood is wide and tall enough that Anko can stretch her arms in every direction without touching the walls or the roof. The little room itself boasts a big window that lets in a shitton of sunlight and keeps it bright, unlike the drab holes at the hospital. It’s prime real estate. Anko can’t figure out who Akari has done to get it approved as the site to bilk money out of bored housewives looking for a ninja to hear them whine about how many affairs their husbands are having.

Anko kinda likes working here. It’s boring, sure, but it requires zero chakra to play phlebotomist, and the real medics are getting more time to back each other up in the real hospital. She figures it’s a nice, useful way to spend her last days. Even if she had not decided to go quietly when ANBU comes after her, she would have no hope of surviving the investigation against her sensei. She will not betray him, no matter what kind of monster he’s turned into. Anko owes him everything she is. Nothing will ever change that, not even the cold reality that Sensei never cared for her at all.

She can't fight either. The Cursed Seal burns on her neck, ready to flare and incinerate her from the inside out the moment she tries any jutsu. Anko is not afraid of pain - Sensei had taught her how - but she is afraid of losing her mind. That is the Cursed Seal’s ultimate goal, to replace her will with Sensei’s, and she has never quite achieved that level of loyalty. When she dies, she wants it to be on her own terms. For now, her terms are to push thin catheters into veins and watch blood, red and pristine, flow out into little tubes. It’s soothing.

Akari has suggested that she might have some inclination for the medcorps, consummate Good Cop interrogator that she is, but nah. Anko just likes blood.

Speaking of the old fox, Anko spots Akari striding down the corridor that leads to the phlebotomy room, with a thin chart in hand. Like almost all Yamanaka women, Akari is hot shit, though she makes no effort to hide the grey streaks running through her platinum blond hair. She wears no makeup, probably in an attempt to look all motherly, but no one’s eyebrows are sculpted like that naturally. 

“Anko-san,” Akari says when she reaches Anko’s booth. “How’s the day treating you?” She’s the only CO Anko’s ever had who doesn't bark orders without a greeting first, no matter how busy things might be.

“Sun’s shining, birds are chirping,” says Anko. 

“Good.” Akari nods. “I’ll handle the next patient on my own.”

“Why?” Another one of Sensei’s former victims here to spit on Anko’s face again? 

“I want to observe this next patient closely from the very beginning of my evaluation, that’s all,” says Akari.

Maybe, but that’s not why she’s sending Anko away. A small figure dressed in classic Uchiha navy blue turns the corner. Uchiha Itachi. Akari’s sending Anko away to avoid a scene like the one from yesterday, when one of the married ladies caught her husband’s new, younger sidepiece in the waiting room. 

“Am I the wife, or is he?” asks Anko, when Itachi is within earshot.

“Anko-san.” It’s an exasperated warning. 

“Who?” asks Itachi, looking up at Anko with a mildly curious expression.

Anko laughs, short and bitter. She’s the wife, obviously. “Come on, Akari-sensei.” She bumps the woman’s shoulder, then goes for Itachi’s brand-spanking new chart. “Not like I’m gonna bite him.” 

Akari shifts to the side, keeping the chart out of Anko’s sight. “No, Anko-san. Please take a break.”

 _Save your false honey._ Anko bites back the words. Akari may act like a gentle aunt, but she’s a jounin medic, master of the mind walking jutsu, and commander of Konoha’s mental health medcorp unit. The Yondaime has already threatened to sic her on Anko once, and Anko would rather not get her ass handed to her in front of the mistress. So Anko smiles, gaze flitting down to Uchiha Itachi, and bows.

She’s halfway down the corridor before she remembers that she can't just run home. The bathroom is the closest thing to a refuge she has. Not that ANBU will respect Akari’s little sanctuary, where she keeps her little pamphlets about spousal abuse, but it gives the illusion of privacy. Anko heaves when she sits on the toilet bowl, stricken by the face that stares back at her from the mirror. You’d think she’d just faced death, not a skinny kid with delicate wrists. 

Although, maybe it’s smart to be scared of Uchiha Itachi. Anko had looked him up almost immediately after Yondaime-sama told her that Sensei had gotten into a big fight with the kid’s parents. No amount of rationalization about how guilty and crazy it made her look could have stopped her. She’d wanted to know her replacement, or so she’d thought.

They’ll say that Sensei moved on because puberty made her unappealing, and alright, Anko isn't stupid. Her sensei is a pedo. Fine. She can at least think it without vomiting. A pedo would react to her growing tits the same way an asshole would react to his wife getting fat after menopause: get a younger model. But still. There has to be something more to it, something more to Uchiha Itachi. 

His Sharingan. Duh. Sensei wants to master every jutsu. It’s a fact that the eyeball can be transplanted (see: Hatake), and the Uchiha have proven that they're cool with it if one of theirs makes a generous gift (see: Hatake, again). So that’s it, then. Sensei went for the kid... in the most self-destructive manner imaginable, apparently. 

There has to be more to it than that.

Anko stands up, washes her face, and glares at her own reflection. What does it matter? Her eyes narrow further. It does matter. Before she can talk herself out of what she means to do next, Anko leaves the bathroom. Akari’s office is big, and comfy like a rich housewife’s dining room. There’s the obligatory massive window behind her desk, which gives her a halo as she talks to her “patients”, another desk with a bunch of games, and a wall-to-wall bookcase to the right. That’s plenty of places for Anko to hide. Akari won't catch her.

Really.

Anko slides into the room, tries to guess where Akari will interview the boy (by the table with the games; it’s a kid), and melts into the opposite wall. Any ninja worth the air they breathe can stay still for a few hours.

Akari leads the boy into the office a few minutes later. She asks him where he wants to sit, and after a few moments of looking around suspiciously, the boy walks to the table with the board games. There’s a band aid with cartoon monkeys on the inside of his left elbow. Akari means to treat him like a normal kind, though he’s been a chuunin for six months and his confirmed kill count (CKC to save space on the forms) is forty-eight. 

“You play?” asks Akari, reaching for one of the chairs as Itachi picks up a shogi piece. 

He shrugs and puts the piece down.

“Please, sit,” says Akari.

Itachi is so short that his legs don't reach the floor. He could pass for a tall six-year-old. How Sensei must have panted for him.

“Why do you suppose you’ve been ordered here?” asks Akari.

“The Psycho Mind Transmission,” says Itachi.

Akari actually looks taken aback, though Itachi probably can't see it. Anko has been observing her long enough to know her tells. “Why do you think that?”

“Why else would they want a Yamanaka to interrogate me?” 

_Good question, kiddo._

“This is not an interrogation,” says Akari, trying for a comforting tone. “It’s an evaluation of your health after a traumatic event.”

“. . .Okay. Can we do that then?”

“How have you been feeling, since Orochimaru made his advances?”

“You mean since he sneaked into my room in the middle of the night and almost killed my father?” The kid’s voice doesn't change inflection at all. “Stressed.”

“About Orochimaru?” 

“About my brother,” says Itachi. For the first time, he looks sheepish. “You know what’s happening with him?”

“You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the village who doesn't,” says Akari.

No kidding. Anko’s grateful for the mess, since it’s probably the reason ANBU doesn't have resources to spare on her. 

“What concerns you about it?” asks Akari.

“The obvious.”

“Humor me,” says Akari, with a small smile. “And tell me about the obvious. It’s how I conduct my evaluations, you see?”

“I’m afraid my clan might go to war over this,” admits Itachi. 

“And?”

“And what?”

“Your academic records speak for themselves,” says Akari. “You have more complex thoughts than that, even if they might be obvious.”

Itachi stares at her, then looks to the table and pushes the shogi set aside. “I like this game better,” he says, as he slides a Go board closer to him.

“The pieces for that are in the drawer,” says Akari. 

“Hm.” Itachi opens it and pulls out a bag of black and white Go stones. “My mother taught me; then she got busy when Sasuke was born. Shisui - one of my cousins - used to play with me, but he left when the war started.”

“What about other children?”

“They’re really bad at it,” says Itachi, laying out the stones on the board haphazardly. 

“So am I, I must admit,” says Akari.

“I play against myself now,” shrugs Itachi. 

“That’s interesting,” says Akari. 

Anko begs to differ.

“Do you wish you could play against other people?”

Itachi shrugs, laying out two rows of stones on the board, black and white neatly opposite against each other. 

“Itachi,” says Akari gently, “the more you talk, the sooner we’ll be done here.”

“I don't talk a lot,” says Itachi. “Thinking is easy, but talking is hard.”

“I know,” says Akari. “It’s important to put your thoughts into words, even if you can't do it perfectly. It helps with stress. So tell me why you're stressed.” 

It’s a good sales pitch, better than what she tried with Anko. 

“I think lots of people will die before this is over,” says Itachi, so low that Anko strains to hear it. “Maybe Sasuke will die, and none of this is his fault.”

“Whose fault is it?”

“My mother’s, I guess,” says Itachi, sweeping the stones off the board. “And. . . the Hyuuga clansman’s.”

“What should happen to them?”

Itachi looks over at Akari and frowns. “What do you mean?”

“What would be fair?” asks Akari.

“I haven’t thought about that,” says Itachi, attention going back to the board. He starts playing a game against himself, or so Anko presumes. She doesn’t play at all. “No one seems that mad at my mother. She got the Byakugan into our family tree, and I guess that’s a great coup for the clan? The Hyuuga are probably really mad at their clansman, but I doubt they’d let Sasuke go on unsealed and living with us even if they find and punish him.”

“Are you mad at your mother?” 

Itachi shrugs. “If she hadn’t done what she did, Sasuke wouldn’t exist. That might’ve been for the best, but I love my brother. He’s an annoying crybaby and kinda dumb, but I love him.” He pauses and captures a black stone, breath louder than his voice. “I don’t want him to die.”

“But you’re worried that he will.”

“It might be the only way to quiet this feud, at least for a while,” says Itachi. “We’re at war. Yondaime-sama won’t stand this for long. Danzo definitely won’t.”

“Would you kill Sasuke if he wasn’t your brother?” asks Akari. 

“Maybe.” Itachi shrugs. “Definitely. It would buy the village time.”

“You think your family would shrug off his death?”

“No, we wouldn’t.” Itachi’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look up from the board. 

Akari waits for him to elaborate, but Itachi continues to place stones on the board. The click of glass on kaya wood is the only sound to be heard. After a moment, Akari sighs.

“So, you believe your family will do something?” she prompts.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing we can do without facing severe consequences. For us, at least. For the village, losing the Uchiha would be a hard blow, but one it could recover from.”

Akari frowns, trying to puzzle out his logic. 

But before she can can prod more, Itachi continues to speak. “In any case, the Hyuuga would be appeased, and they’re the larger clan with a more useful doujutsu for surveillance. The rest of the clans wouldn’t care enough to push the issue. Everyone just wants to end the conflict with Kumo as quickly as possible.”

“So you don’t think killing Sasuke or punishing your family would be wrong?”

Finally, Itachi looks at Akari. “Everything about this is wrong. The challenge is to find the least wrong thing to do.”

“You’ve killed lots of people during your missions,” says Akari. “And you’ve never been on the frontlines, or even taken on an assassination.”

The change of subject seems to confuse the boy. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

Oh, how her sensei must have loved this kid, so full of emotion for the select few he cares about, and apparently baffled at the notion that the same consideration should be spared for anyone else.

“Was it the least wrong thing to kill them?” asks Akari. 

“It was the safest thing,” says Itachi. “For me, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m small for my age,” says Itachi, going back to the board. “I can’t keep my Sharingan active for too long, and while my Shurikenjutsu is very accurate, my reach isn’t exactly impressive. Most of the time, I get one hit on my enemies. I make it count.”

“You killed them because you were scared.”

“I killed them to avoid a situation where I would be scared,” says Itachi. “When I get stronger, I’ll have to kill less. If I get stronger.”

“You’re afraid you might not?”

“Obviously.”

“I said I’d like you to tell me about obvious things, didn’t I?” Akari’s voice is soft.

“There’s the war, the feud.” Itachi sighs as he moves around another stone on the board. “Who knows what Orochimaru has planned for me, if anything. I might die.”

“What will you do if he comes back for you?” 

“Now?” he snorts. “Pray someone saves me. But I’ll get stronger, and one day, I’ll kill him.”

“For revenge?”

“So I don’t have to worry about him anymore,” says Itachi. He touches a stone to his thin lips as he surveys the board. “Fingers crossed someone gets him before me.”

“What happens if he comes for you now, and no one saves you?”

“That’s unlikely,” says Itachi, as he captures another black stone. “I’m too high-risk a target for him now.”

“What if he doesn't care and comes for you anyway?” insist Akari.

“I would kill myself,” says Itachi.

Anko almost loses concentration and reveals her presence. Sensei wouldn't even hurt the kid if he cooperates.

“I would rather die than let Orochimaru put his hands on me,” says Itachi. “I’d refuse him the satisfaction.” 

“I think that’s enough for today,” says Akari. “I’ll clear your return to active duty, with the caveat that you return for an evaluation every two weeks. Missions permitting, of course.”

“Why?” Itachi puts down the stone he’d been about to play. “What am I under suspicion for?”

“Nothing,” says Akari. “But you're quite young, and under severe stress.”

“. . .Alright,” says Itachi. He moves to clear the Go board, but Akari tells him to leave it as-is.

Anko’s head is still swirling when he gets up and leaves the room with a proper bow, like any self-respecting clan brat would. The kid has a lot of self-respect. More than Anko ever did.

“You can come out.”

Anko slips out of the shadow of the bookcase, wondering why she isn't scared. An Intelligence jounin - a Yamanaka - just found her spying on the kid that Sensei last tried to diddle.

“So,” says Akari, regarding her with a curious head tilt, “what’s your opinion on the boy?”

“I wish I’d been there when he severed Sensei’s balls.” 

Akari doesn't react. She never does. Anko has no weapons against her. It looks like she never had any weapons against anybody.

“I’m ready to spill all I know about Sen- I mean, about Orochimaru now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi's glad the village hasn't destroyed itself. There's that at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Sometimes, Itachi almost wishes that Yamanaka-san had judged him unfit for duty. With most of the army still on the Kumo frontlines, chuunin remaining home must take twice the usual number of missions per month. Often, it’s more than that. Even if Itachi was strong enough to pile up all his missions into one week, emergency assignments keep rolling in at an unprecedented rate. The grueling schedule had not permitted him to stay home for Sasuke’s custody hearing. On the other hand, Itachi is relieved to be gone for the first, and hopefully last, round of formal negotiations.

One of the rich merchants from the city closest to Konoha, about thirty-five miles to the Northeast, near the headwater of what shinobi call Sanzu River[1] thinks his favorite daughter is having an affair with some unsavory thug who means to marry her for her father’s money. Itachi’s mission is to identify this potential suitor. And nothing else. Itachi wonders why the client is not asking for the man’s head, but whatever. Less work for him. All he has to do is pose as an orphan in the city, identify the daughter, and trail her until he sees her lover.

It’s the first time Itachi is leaving the village since Orochimaru’s attack. He usually takes comfort in Fire Country’s dense forests and their solitude, but this particular trip has his heart stuttering every time a common snake slithers on the forest floor. He’s being dumb. It’s not like he’s been sent out without recourse. Shisui gave him a nasty genjutsu sealed in a scroll designed by cousin Obito, probably the best seals master in Konoha short of Kushina-san and Hokage-sama himself. And Hokage-sama gave him one of his special kunai.

“I don't expect that Orochimaru will come for you anytime soon,” he’d told Itachi. “But if he does, prick yourself with this kunai, and like a lightning storm, I will come.”

It’s the best protection an inconsequential boy can hope for. Still, Itachi pushes himself harder than he normally does and travels at a pace more fit for a chuunin years older than him. He arrives at his destination in less than twenty-four hours, calves burning and breath dangerously close to heaves. It’s nightfall, when the sword-wielding samurai types that operate outside hidden villages are more watchful than usual, so Itachi hunts a boar and makes a small fire behind an old tree.

He slips into town the next day, exchanging some leftover meat with a troupe of travelling performers for a spot in their caravan. No one pays him any mind, not even when he steals a shakuhachi from a slender teen girl who follows the geisha. A few missions ago, Itachi spied a geisha playing with his Sharingan, and it’s turned out to be the most useful skill he’s copied so far. People are more tolerant of an orphan if he can make beautiful - or at least passable - music. He sets up shop in the busiest street in the town, near a bar that the target allegedly frequents.

It’s no worse a place than any seedy establishment from the Red District back home, but this town is a favorite of the daimyo, so the samurai go out of their way to keep it cleaner than most. To the town’s relatively coddled citizens, it might as well be a whorehouse. Itachi plays the shakuhachi well enough that passersby leave him enough coin to eat three times over. Two barefoot beggars, both twice Itachi’s size, eye him with jealousy. Itachi could beat them without a thought, but that would attract undue attention.

The target makes her way to the bar that very afternoon, sparing Itachi some trouble. She’s a pretty girl, Itachi supposes. Her kimono certainly is, the rich fabric dyed with purple and gold and threaded with reinforced Aburame silk. There’s only an old woman trailing her. It’s no trouble for Itachi to take to the rooftops and follow her to a rendezvous with a tall man with blond hair that looks like he could be from Kumo. Probably not, and even if he is, it doesn't mean that he’s a Kumo nin. Itachi won't risk it either way. Kumo’s always been after Konoha’s doujutsu.

He heads straight for the rich man’s mansion in the center of the city. The whole thing is a pretty straightforward mission that any of his samurai-type men could handle, but Itachi bets there’s some moral code against it. Well. Who is he to sneer at people willing to give them money for no good reason?

At first, the old man is insulted that Konoha has sent “an infant” for his mission. “What if this scoundrel is dangerous?” he demands from his chair, hand shaking around a teacup.

“He didn't seem to be,” says Itachi.

The client pauses, cup raised halfway to his lips. “You already found him?”

Obviously. “Medium build, about a head taller than your daughter, blond hair, light skin. Possibly from Lightning Country, carrying no obvious weapons, wearing leather boots.” The part about the boots is important. Not many people can afford leather boots, even back in Konoha.

“That tells me nothing,” yells the old man.

“You said you had portraits of the suspects,” prompts Itachi.

Finally, one of the samurai-types approaches Itachi as though he’s carrying a plague, scrolls under his sleeves. The daughter’s paramour is on the third one.

“That snake!” yells the old man.

Itachi internally falters, though the situation couldn't be more removed from Orochimaru if it tried.

“I welcome him into my home, and he dishonors my daughter!” continues the man.

A civilian, then. Shinobi have no business spying on such a fool. “Do you want me to kill him?” asks Itachi.

“What?”

“Konoha has very competitive basic assassination fees,” says Itachi. “I’m already here, so you wouldn't have to pay for a new mission.”

“What.”

Itachi thinks it’s a pretty reasonable solution to the man’s problem. “The man is a civilian, so I could kill him before he realizes what’s happened. Minimal danger to me, so fairly cheap fee.”

The samurai steps away as the old man’s face goes ash-grey.

“No?” Itachi nods politely. It’s not good business to be overbearing. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”

Itachi leaves the town immediately, just in case the paramour isn't some random civilian. He can alway camp out in the forest, well away from the town. There’s plenty of game out there for dinner.

He would have called the mission a roaring success if he had not run into a pair of missing nin a mere ten miles away from home. He’s travelling at peak speed, so there’s no point to pretending he’s a random civilian. One of the men grabs Itachi’s wrist, and Itachi reflexively activates his Sharingan. They’re close enough that the man sees his eyes. The red of Itachi’s irises makes him leap back.

“Konoha must be more desperate than we realized if they’re letting out a baby Uchiha,” he says, the initial fear apparently leaving him. “You’re gonna make us quite a fortune, boy.”

That’s a threat that Itachi had assumed was always at the back of his mind - that he might be captured, sold, and raped for his Sharingan - but the reality of it slaps him like an electric fist. He momentarily freezes on the spot, mere feet away from the bigger missing nin, but thankfully the two hostiles don't have much coordination.

“Don’t be stupid,” the other one says. “Think he won't be missed? You want Konoha and the Uchiha clan on our ass too?”

“They’re at war with Kumo! They won't have the manpower to chase after him.”

“They’re not gonna need to chase after me,” Itachi says.

He’s bluffing, of course. Though he’s been a ninja for a year, he’s never been in a solo fight with another adult nin before, much less two. But Elder Rakshasha says that it’s a good idea to feign weakness when you're strong, and strength when you are weak.

“I have no business with you,” Itachi says. “If you leave now, that will be the end of it. I will not pursue you. I will not even report that I saw you because, as you said, my village is at war and we don't have the resources to spare on riffraff. But if you fight me, I will trap you in a genjutsu and kill you.”

They both glare, but the one who seems against taking on Itachi rears backwards. The other one spits at Itachi’s feet, and then they are on their way. Either his acting skills are better than he gives himself credit for, or his clan’s reputation is more gruesome than he realizes. Regardless, Itachi is grateful for the new lease on life. And at least, the close call distracts him from ruminating about Sasuke’s trial.

There’s a Hyuuga sentry at the entrance to the village who doesn't bat a white eye at Itachi’s arrival. Itachi chooses to take that as a good sign. Surely the village would have descended into chaos if the hearing exploded into catastrophe?

Itachi almost goes straight home, but shakes himself out of it halfway there. Everything is as he left it the day before. He has a mission to report. The sooner he gets all the details about the missing-nin down on paper, the less he’s bound to forget.

He stops by a food stand on his way to Mission Tower because the smell reminded him that he’d forgotten to eat his rations in his haste to get back home. The lady behind the counter smiles sadly when she offers him a complementary mint, and Itachi gets a queer feeling in his chest. Maybe the trial did go south, but just for the Uchiha, and he’ll find nothing but ashes when he gets home.

Thankfully, he notices a pair of police officers in line at a ramen stand before his heart runs away from him. He nods at the lady behind the counter and takes the mint.

Other ninja at Mission Tower shoot him curious glances as he searches for a long mission report template. That’s not so strange, though it has been happening more often since Orochimaru and the order to report to Yamanaka Akari for evaluation. People think Itachi is compromised, and... well, fair enough. Itachi would be suspicious too. He pays them no mind as he sits down to write every single detail he can extract from his memory about the two missing nin.

It’s not a good sign that he ran into outsider ninja so close to the village’s borders. Even if they had been running from their own village due to some conflict that has nothing to do with Konoha, they should have considered crossing into Leaf territory too risky. The war with Kumo has to end soon, or Suna, Kusa, anyone will realize that Konoha is a sitting duck. Itachi considers reporting in person to someone higher in the ranks, but it’s not in his best interests to put more pressure on the brass. He’s fairly detailed in his report; if they want to question him directly about the incident, they know where to find him.

Afterwards, he considers visiting Sasuke at Kushina-san’s house. He’s only done it once, and Sasuke had cajoled a promise that he’d go visit every day he wasn't away on missions. Itachi regrets that promise. The day of his first visit, Sasuke had seemed content enough, if a bit more clingy than usual, but he’d deteriorated into a hysterical, screaming mess when Itachi said his goodbyes. And there’s Naruto to consider, who’s glued to Sasuke’s side and fires questions as fast as a tornado and is never chagrined when Itachi says that he’s busy and will answer some other time. Better to go home and find out how the trial went. He considers looking for Shisui first, but for all he knows, Shisui is back on the frontlines.

Home is quiet as a tomb, but also clean and orderly. And Itachi saw plenty of cousins on the way there, and no one looked distressed or angry. He does his best to ignore the silence and heads out to the back, sparing a glance for his room. It hasn't been the same since Orochimaru. _Don't think about it, don't think about it,_ he chants to himself as he goes past the kitchen. His shower will have to wait.

Father is standing out by the pond, looking off into the distance. Or the Hyuuga household, but that makes no sense, so he’s probably just thinking out in the open. Itachi rushes forward with so many questions at the tip of his tongue that he feels like Sasuke.

“Father,” he says when reaches his side, bowing reflexively. Father doesn't turn to look at him.

“How was your mission?”

“The usual.” Itachi shrugs, to himself since Father will not look at him. “How was the hearing?”

“It seems that your grandmother has offered Shisui to the Hyuuga, as long as they agree not to seal him or his line.”

“Oh.” That’s... Itachi’s not sure how to feel about that. Shisui’s their best, and probably that’s the point. The Hyuuga would eat Sasuke alive in a matter of weeks. “Where’s Mother?”

Father makes a bitter noise.

Instinct almost prompts Itachi to take a step back. He blinks and mentally shakes himself. What sense is there in getting nervous in front of his father on the same day he let himself be ambushed by missing nin ten miles from home?

“Come on,” says Father. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Why? Are you in pain?” He seems so, standing with his back straight, breath even and easy. “Is it for somebody else?”

“You,” says Father, finally looking down at Itachi.

“But I’m fine.” Itachi does take that step back. He feels like Sasuke all of a sudden - knows something is very wrong, that it has to do with him, but he doesn't know what or why.

“Don't make me argue about this,” says Father. “Not with you.”

“Argue about what?” He’s not supposed to talk to his father like this, but he can't force the words down. “I don't need a hospital. I’m fine.”

Father reaches for him, eyebrows furrowed into a harsh frown. Itachi’s body moves on its own, evading his father’s touch, muscles bracing themselves for a fight as his chest tightens. He glares, and the red cloud of his Sharingan falls over the whole world. Father is not breathing as easily as Itachi had judged with his mundane eyes. His chest doesn't expand quite as much as it should.

“Where’s Mother?”

“You’ve known all along, haven't you?” demands Father.

“Known what?”

“About Sasuke.”

“Everyone did,” says Itachi. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s obvious.”

“That’s the only problem, then!” Father’s eyes flash red, then he looks down and sags, holding his head with his hand. “If his eyes were black, I’d never would’ve known. If he had a Sharingan...”

“Father?” Itachi feels the chakra draining from his eyes, and the light of the sun takes over, bright and warm.

“Let’s just go to the hospital.”

What little fight Itachi has left melts out of him like bits of shaved ice dropped in boiling water. His father just had surgery after trying to defend him from a potential rapist. Maybe he wants to go to the hospital because he’s hurt, bleeding into his chest like he’d done that night. Itachi steps forward, wishing he was big enough that Father could lean some weight on him comfortably.

“Let’s go back to the house,” says Itachi, slipping a hand under his father’s. “You can rest while I check if Hizashi-sensei’s home.” Itachi doesn't notice that something’s wrong again until Father squeezes his hand so hard that the bones of his palm grind together. “Father...?”

“Why him?”

A grunt that wants to turn into a whimper escapes from between Itachi’s pursed lips. “Uh. . . he’s your surgeon? Father?” Trying to pull his hand free just makes his bones grind together. Short of reaching for a kunai with his other hand and slashing at his father’s wrist, he has no idea how to get free. “You’re hurting me.”

Father’s grip loosens and Itachi rips his hand away, all but staggering backwards. He gazes towards the Hyuuga household.

“I’m sorry,” says Father, gazing towards the Hyuuga household. “Whatever happens, it isn't your fault any more than it’s Sasuke’s, but I need to know if you're really my son.”

“What?” Of course Itachi is his father’s son. They’ve told him so his whole life. No, they haven’t. Because it’s self-evident. They even look alike. Don't they?

“Come on,” says Father.

“No.” Tears gather in Itachi’s eyes. He wipes them away angrily, refusing to sink to Sasuke’s level. He’s not a _baby._

“Itachi, don't test what little patience I have left,” says Father. “Even if I didn't have my doubts, there’s no way the clan will let you go on as the presumptive heir with your parentage in question.”

But his parentage isn't in question. Right? “I don't care about being clan head!” He doesn't recognize his own voice, then he realizes that he’s yelling. “Where’s Mother?”

“I don't know,” says Father. “Maybe across the street, with Hyuuga Hizashi.”

Itachi very much doubts that, but he sees that his father is in no state to be reasoned with. “She would be with Elder Rakshasha,” he mumbles to himself. Whenever his parents quarrel, his mother goes to Rakshasha, so that’s where Itachi will go. He turns around.

“Where are you going?” demands Father. “I told you, we're going to the hospital.”

“No!” yells Itachi. “If you're not my father, then I don't have to listen to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1The dead must cross this river on the way to the afterlife, similar to the Greek belief in the River Styx


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi meets a strange boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [@aluvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta-reading this!

Itachi doesn’t remember why he rushed to Mikoto after Fugaku... This is all her fault. He’d tried not to dwell on it because it’s not his place to judge what his mother does, but the sight of her calmly cooking while everything burned around her because--because she couldn’t just... He doesn’t even care about the particulars - or at least, he thought he hadn’t - but in Grandmother’s kitchen, he’d wanted to fight his mother. And Itachi never wants to fight anybody. 

He almost burst into tears again after storming out of Grandmother’s house, but he lives in a ninja clan. People are always watching. If he’s a crybaby, everyone will know. And then! And then, someone might take time out of their busy day to come comfort him or something. That would be the worst. 

He’s back on the mission roster. He could go take a few C-ranks, or steal a D-rank from some genin. That’s the obvious solution, but he drags his feet. He could visit Sasuke, but Sasuke gets hysterical every time Itachi tries to leave. There's no need to further impose on Kushina-san. And mother will be visiting them soon. He would really like to avoid her for now, or maybe for ever. Finally, he could visit Shisui. But he's been called away, probably by ANBU, for something important. Itachi has not seen much of him since his return from the frontlines. It's a blessing, really. Itachi can barely look him in the eyes after Kumo kidnapped Sasuke almost right under his nose.

Before this whole mess started, Itachi would have just trained, or meditated, or something. But all his training prior to Orochimaru's attack has amounted to nothing. Why keep doing something that has proven ineffective? And he might not even be the Uchiha heir after all, so there’s no need to worry about being prepared for that anymore either.    
  
At odd moments, his breath catches for no particular reason. Even when the day is bright, warm, and clear, the air tries to smother him. The clouds look like smoke, specially at sundown.    
  
Itachi has never been one to frighten easily. Granted, nothing so terrifying has ever happened to him before... 

No.   
  
He is still himself. It doesn’t matter who is father is or isn’t. He is a chuunin, one who has been trained for worse. The world changes, but he is still himself. So he goes off on his own, taking advantage of the clan's distraction. It's what he would have done before Orochimaru's attack.

Itachi sets out for the woods behind his home. It's not clear where the boundary between the Uchiha and Hyuuga properties is here... Which would not have mattered before, so Itachi refuses to consider it now. (If a Hyuuga is his father, does that mean that he has rights to both properties?)   
  
He ventures in deeper than ever before. These woods are mostly foreign to him - not from fear, but from a lack of interest. There are better training areas, both at home and in the village's proper training grounds. Still, that’s no excuse for being surprised by the numerous wild pigs just in his backyard, or for not recognizing a majority of landmarks. Orochimaru had initially fled to these woods.   
  
Itachi doesn't know how or why that is significant, considering he had not been the one to pursue the Snake Sannin. He assumes his mother knows the area better, and the Hyuuga have their Byakugan. (Does he have a Byakugan? Will his children?)

About two miles away from home, he runs into a poacher. From Konoha, or so Itachi hopes. An outsider should be too scared of Konoha's infamous doujutsu clans to poach on their properties. Not a ninja either, as he doesn't notice Itachi approaching, and Itachi is making no effort to hide. Also, he's hunting with a bow, and a ninja would go straight for shuriken.   
  
It's not a particularly good bow, made with cheap, miss-bent wood. The arrows don't look much better, just thin sticks with shivs on the tips. The guy's posture is decent enough, but it's still a miracle he's managed to hit anything.

"You shouldn't be here," says Itachi. 

The poacher whirls around, startled as any rabbit he might be hunting. His shoulders sag in obvious relief when he looks down at Itachi, and he loosens his hold on his bow, aiming at the ground. That's not unexpected. People often underestimate Itachi.   
  
"You scared the shit outta me," says the poacher. He sounds much younger than he looks.   
  
He  _ must _ be younger than he looks because he steps closer to Itachi, into a beam of sunlight shining through the trees, and fixes him with a concerned look. His eyes are light, despite his pitch-black hair and brown skin. It must be annoying for a criminal to have such a distinctive physical characteristic.    
  
"Are you lost?" he asks Itachi    
  
"No."   
  
"You sure?" Before Itachi can answer, the poacher unloads his cheap arrow and hooks the malformed bow over his head. "You don't gotta be badass with me, little clan brat. Come on, let's take you home."   
  
"Then you'll have to surrender those," says Itachi, gesturing at the squirrels that the poacher has tied to his old, worn belt. He got them both by the neck and spilled little blood; relatively clean kills, considering his subpar tools.

"Oh, come on!" The poacher actually stamps his foot. "Like you rich clan bastards would ever eat squirrel meat! What's it matter to you if I hunt them a little?"   
  
"It's the principle of the thing."   
  
"Fuck your principles!"   
  
Itachi suppresses a smile. He has told people as much in different circumstances, but with much better vocabulary. Also, he has only ever done so when he was sure he was the strongest person in the vicinity.    
  
"I should just leave you out here lost," says the poacher.   
  
"I'm not lost."   
  
"Well, fine then! I bet you were crying from happiness!" 

Itachi’s breath catches. But only for an instant. He had been crying. Of course it’s obvious, even to a common poacher.

The poacher's face twists into a constipated frown, and then he whirls around and stomps away from Itachi, mumbling about clan brats under his breath.

Itachi almost follows him -- he's breaking the law, after all. But Itachi isn't a police officer yet (maybe not ever), and it's only squirrels. He watches the poacher leave without another word. He considers returning home, but the thought makes his belly sink. He might be cleared for active duty, but someone will surely send a search party if he doesn’t make it home by sunset. But it’s still early in the afternoon. He’s got time enough. Turning around, Itachi pushes deeper into the forest. If he walks far enough, he'll arrive at the northwestern edge of the Forest of Death. He’ll go home, then. Just that bit farther, and not a step more. 

After ten minutes, Itachi detects someone following him. His heart races for a second, but then he remembers the Yondaime’s kunai. It’s still nestled safely in his pouch. He only needs to pull it out. Slowing down his pace, he lets his tail get a little closer, and closer. This deep in the forest, the trees are massive, with a labyrinth of roots holding them all up. He can easily find protective covering if it comes to an all-out fight. Keeping his breath nicely even, Itachi stops and remains perfectly still. 

He stays stuck-still until a squirrel passes in front of him, pausing to fix a pair of beady brown eyes on him. He blinks. The squirrel blinks back, before continuing on its way. A tidal wave of relief and shame rushes through him. Itachi lets out a breath he had not realized he'd been holding. Fear is a strange emotion to feel on such a constant basis, and he does such incredibly foolish things under its influence. He’d rather not keep feeling it, thanks. All that grief for nothing. He shakes his head and doubles back.

The poacher is less than a kilometer behind him, shambling around, wearing a deep frown.   
  
"Clan brat!" he yells. "Where did you go? Hey!"   
  
Mostly out of curiosity, Itachi steps into his line of sight. The poacher beams at the sight of him, then frowns harder, and rushes towards him.   
  
"You can have your freaking squirrels," says the poacher, ripping his prizes off the hook on his belt and throwing them at Itachi's feet. "But I gotta take you home."   
  
"...Why?"   
  
"I can't leave a little kid out in the forest to, like... get eaten by a tiger, or something," says the poacher. "That ain't right."   
  
"This isn't even that forest," says Itachi. "There are no tigers here." And Itachi could handle them if there were, but that seems immaterial.    
  
"That's not the point."   
  
"I don't want your squirrels either."   
  
"Yeah, I bet you eat, like, steak and shit," says the poacher. "Tell you what; I'm gonna make a fire and cook my squirrels, then I'm gonna take you home. Sound fair?"

It sounds like nonsense, but Itachi doesn’t want to go back home. “Fine, I’ve never had squirrel.” Even when he’s out on missions, he hunts better prey.

“Yeah, I bet you haven’t,” says the poacher. “You know how to fix game? Like, getting the guts out, and other parts you can’t eat?”

“You mean field dressing,” says Itachi.

“Wha?”

“Yes, I know how to do it.” 

The poacher rolls his eyes, but he tosses a pair of squirrels at Itachi.

“Good catch!” he adds, starting to walk over. He seems taken aback when Itachi produces a kunai, but says nothing else.

“Go gather some firewood,” orders Itachi. 

“No way. What if you steal my kills?” 

Itachi just looks at him.

“Right, that’s probably dumb,” says the poacher, crouching down to deposit the other two squirrels at Itachi’s feet. “I hate this part anyway, so this totally works out. Don’t go anywhere, little clan brat.” 

Itachi works silently. The squirrels’ blood stinks, but there isn’t much of it, and they’re still warm. Peeling the fur off is oddly soothing, and doing it while preserving as much of the meat as possible requires just enough concentration that he can stop thinking about his parents, Sasuke, the Hyuuga, everything. By the time the poacher has gathered enough firewood, he’s skinned and eviscerated all four squirrels. Maybe the poacher actually needed that much time, or maybe he was trying to avoid working with the squirrel corpses. Itachi doesn’t care either way.

“Good job, little clan brat,” says the poacher, depositing one last piece of suitable firewood in front of Itachi. 

He reaches into his pocket, probably for a match, but Itachi uses a minor fire jutsu to get it started.

“Guess they start you at that young,” says the poacher, sitting down next to him. “Where’s the skin and entrails and stuff?”

“Incinerated them,” says Itachi, gesturing at a dark patch of pitch-black ashes on the ground a few feet away.

“Wha?”

“That means I burned them,” clarifies Itachi.

“I know what the word  _ means _ , dipshit,” says the poacher. “You just don’t look like you’re packing that kind of heat.”

Obviously, he is. The poacher is distracting, but also inane.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” says the poacher.

“Itachi.”

He expects some noise about being the Uchiha heir, but the poacher only snorts. “That’s a really weird name. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“No.” Because it’s exceedingly rude to point it out.

“What was your mama thinking when she named you?”

Itachi refuses to flinch at the mention of his mother. But his hands shamefully tighten around his kunai. “I’ll be sure to ask her next time I see her.”

“Oh, I don’t mean it in a bad way,” says the poacher. 

Itachi ignores him, and takes out some wire to skewer the squirrels so he can use sticks to hang them over the fire.

“I’d say not to waste good tools on such shitty meat, but I bet you can get all that shit with no trouble,” says the poacher.

“It’s never a good idea to be wasteful,” says Itachi, glaring at the setup. “We could’ve gone back to the village to buy better food.”

“Maybe you can, rich boy, but I’m broke as shit.”

“I have enough money for both of us,” says Itachi.

“Whatever, man,” says the poacher. “This meat may taste like rubber from an old junkie’s leg, but I still worked for it. We’re eating it. If you wanna give me money for the experience afterwards, I won’t turn you down.”

“Hm.”

The squirrels are done about half an hour later, or so the poacher assures Itachi. 

“Doesn’t look very appetizing,” says Itachi.

“It ain’t ever gonna look appetizing,” says the poacher, poking at a piece of squirrel leg meat with a scrunched nose. “Dig in, rich boy.”

Squirrel doesn’t taste like... anything. It’s just meat cooked without salt or seasoning. The texture is a bit gamey, but otherwise, it’s bland.

“Does everyone in the Uchiha clan got a weird-ass name?” asks the poacher, talking with his mouth full. “‘Cause I heard this story in the District, probably bullshit, about an old Uchiha named  _ Rakshasha _ . She’s like ugly as sin and cuts off children’s toes.”

“That’s my great-grandmother.”

“No way!” says the poacher, laughing like Itachi’s told a great joke. “Shoulda seen that coming. All you clan guys are related after all. Hey. Does she really eats kid’s toes?”

“No, but she’d be amused at the story.”

“Awesome!” says the poacher. “Too bad no one’s gonna believe me in the District when I tell them I met and had squirrel with a real-life Uchiha.”

Itachi doesn’t know what possesses him to do what he does next, but he looks at the poacher and says, “I could go with you.”

The poacher looks as surprised to hear that as Itachi. “Why?”

“I’m bored,” says Itachi, shrugging.

“That sounds like bullshit,” says the poacher. “You haven’t even asked my name, and I’m like twice your size. Why would you wanna go anywhere with me, little clan brat?”

“I could  _ incinerate  _ you,” says Itachi. Then he looks away. The poacher has a point. Threats won’t change that.

“Maybe,” he says. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

His question has no answer, so Itachi shrugs.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” says the poacher, sliding closer to Itachi. “Look, I’d totally take you with me, but you’re an Uchiha, and I can’t have your family deciding I kidnapped you or some shit. No street rat with any brains is gonna fuck with Uchihas. Sorry, kiddo.” He has the nerve to lightly knock his fist against Itachi’s shoulder. “Whatever’s going on, I can’t help you with it.”

“Nobody can,” says Itachi. No point in being all secretive when the poacher already read him like an unsealed scroll.

“Yeah, I know the feeling; it blows,” says the poacher. Somehow, Itachi believes him. “My name’s Eiji, by the way. It’s polite to ask people’s names when they ask you, you savage.”


End file.
